


Inexplicable

by cliche_ridden



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-08-03
Packaged: 2018-05-31 16:00:00
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,212
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6476677
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cliche_ridden/pseuds/cliche_ridden
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Missing Year: Try as he might he just cannot explain the pull he feels towards her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Inexplicable

**Author's Note:**

> Just another take on the missing year, nothing particularly original but it was an idea in my head that wouldn't go away. I'm sure other people have probably written a similar thing and executed it far better but here it is anyway...
> 
> (I suppose it could be considered a prequel to my other (ridiculously long) fic I'll Follow You Down.)
> 
> Intended as a oneshot but I've got a nagging feeling I might have to write it from Regina's POV also.
> 
> As always, I own nothing, it's all property of it's respective owners, making no money etc.

Try as he might, he can’t explain it. This incomprehensible draw he has to come here every night. 

At first, he told himself he was just doing a thorough patrol, checking on all the likely targets for attack, now it’s just a part of his routine. Every night like clockwork while most residents slumber, he comes here and every night he finds the same thing. 

It’s been three weeks now since that night they broke into the castle together. She’s barely left her bedchambers, eaten hardly a thing. The princess is worrying herself sick. She doesn’t discuss it with him of course, why would she? But he’s seen her, huddled with the prince, him trying to comfort her as she frets. 

He saw her yesterday, a rare appearance at a council meeting. Her wit as acerbic as ever, no small amount of her put downs sent his way. He doesn’t know this woman, beyond her reputation anyway, and what little he’s experienced of her she’s been downright rude, and yet…

Once again he finds himself outside her bedchambers and once again he finds himself filled with concern, the moon has long since risen and yet there is light from under the door. He had reasoned to himself at first that she perhaps slept with a candle burning, but her appearance has since convinced him that she is not sleeping much at all. He’s heard rumor she’s been sighted wandering the halls and gardens at night too. 

Just like every night, he finds himself stood outside the door, desperately wishing to knock, to go to her and offer some comfort. What a terrible fate to be separated from ones child, he can’t imagine. And yet, every night the sensible side of him wins out. He does not know this woman he reminds himself over and over, and by her reputation, he is lucky to have survived seeing such vulnerability once. 

He moves on once more, silently patrolling the halls and keeping vigil for any further attack from the wicked witch, simian or otherwise. 

In the morning, he is summoned to another council meeting, apparently the princess has insisted they all attend. He is sure this is a tactic to entice the queen to venture once again from her chambers, he only hopes it works. 

All the council members are seated, waiting, when the queen does finally deign to bestow her presence upon them. The doors to the council chamber are unceremoniously thrown open by her magic and she stalks towards the table, making a good show of how much she does not wish to be there. 

She sits at the table, and he can see the concerned looks that pass between the prince and princess and the one they all refer to as Granny. If she notices, she doesn’t let on, and that should really have been the first sign all was not well. 

The light streaming in from the window illuminates her face and they are all somewhat shocked by what they see. She has lost weight, her ornate costumes hide it on her frame but her face is gaunt and there are dark circles under her eyes. He can’t help but think she’s no less beautiful for these outward signs of her inner turmoil though. 

As he had suspected, there seems to be no real reason this meeting has been called except to rehash what little information they already had. The frustration from the queen is almost palpable until finally she explodes, declaring enough is enough, slamming her fist into the table and standing abruptly to leave. 

Except she doesn’t leave. She wavers on her feet, a confused expression coming over her as she reaches for her head and then suddenly, she’s on the ground. 

The prince quickly ushers out all but the princess and Granny, all acutely aware of the queens’ almost pathological need to not appear weak. 

He lingers outside the council chamber, that same unfathomable need to know she is alright holding him there. The prince is the first to emerge, surprised to see him still loitering outside at first, but then a look of understanding, as though he too cannot quite explain the concern he obviously shares for her. 

The prince tells him that the queen regained consciousness a short while ago, refused any and all offers of assistance and used her magic to take herself back to her room. With the door open, he can hear the princess in a state of some distress over the situation. 

This will not do he decides, as though he has some say in the matter. A plan formulates in his mind though as he returns to his men, to his boy to share a midday meal. Little John tries to tell him it is madness, that he has lost his sanity to entrust the safety of his child to a woman known for her cruelty and disregard for others. He would have agreed with him before he met her, but met her he has and he struggles to reconcile the stories he’s heard with the broken woman he sees. 

He talks to his boy who is delighted for another chance to meet her majesty. He’s been taken with her since their close encounter with the witch’s winged beast and the toy she gave him has barely left his arms since. 

He sends Roland to the gardens under Little John’s watch and goes to the kitchens to speak with Granny. She eyes him suspiciously as he tells her of his idea and he feels uncomfortable under her scrutiny, he’s being sized up and for what exactly he is unsure. In the end, she agrees with a loud huff and a shrug of her shoulders, telling him nothing else has worked so he might as well try. 

It’s with that most unenthused of blessings that he and his boy set off to her chambers. 

Once they arrive at the large imposing doors, he gives Roland a reassuring smile and knocks.

“Go away.” Comes the terse reply from inside, but he won’t be dissuaded that easily.

He knocks again and there’s no answer and then a third time, louder this time and they can hear footsteps quickly approaching the door.

“Are you deaf? I said go away!” She pulls the door back swiftly, midsentence before she’s even looked to see who’s there. 

Rolands’ chin wobbles slightly, he’s unaccustomed to adults speaking to him in such a manner, he looks to his father who gives him an encouraging nod. 

“Papa said you weren’t feeling well your majesty so I picked you some flowers and we brought you lunch.” He says quietly, thrusting the bunch of flowers he’d gathered in the garden earlier forward towards her. 

Her expression softens almost immediately. 

“Well that’s very sweet of you Roland.” She says, kneeling so she’s at his level and taking the proffered flowers. “Thank you very much for the flowers, but I’m afraid I’m not hungry.”

“Oh.” Roland manages to fill one syllable with such disappointment it intrigues her as he looks to the ground and starts fiddling with his tunic, it's clear she wonders what it was he was expecting.

“Roland?” She asks, eyebrow raised, a brief look thrown to the thief who stands silently holding a tray.

“It’s just, papa said that I might get to eat my lunch with you.” He tells her shyly.

“Did he?” She asks, look of disdain aimed at the thief now, she clearly knew what he was doing.

“He said you might be too busy but that sometimes you reward your most loyalest subjects by sharing a meal with them and I’ve been helping to guard the castle.” He starts as shyly as he had been but can’t help but beam with pride by the end.

“I’m sure that you’ve been a tremendous help.” She tells him kindly with a smile. “And I suppose your father will be joining us for this meal?” She looks up toward the thief and he is absolutely sure that she’s plotting his death.

“Actually your majesty, I have to go on patrol, you’d be doing me a favour if you were watching over Roland while I’m gone.” He makes sure to use her correct title, no point in angering her further at this point.

“Really?” Scepticism drips from her voice, she sees through his rouse easily but knowing what he’s doing and disappointing the boy in front of her are two different things. “I see, well I can’t possibly disappoint my loyal guard here can I?” It’s over Roland’s head but the accusation in her tone is clear to him.

“You mean it?” Roland grins excitedly.

“Of course dear.” She tells him with a smile, standing and ruffling his hair. 

That she’s slightly shaky on her feet when she stands again does not go unnoticed by him, but he decides the wisest course is not comment. 

She takes the tray from him with both hands at first but then arranges is so she can hold it with one arm, she reaches out her other to hand to Roland who eagerly accepts and takes her hand. 

“Shall we eat in the gardens?” She asks.

“Yes please!” Roland enthusiastically nods his head before he remembers the brief lesson in royal etiquette his father gave him before they came. “I mean, if it would please your majesty.” He says looking at his father proudly.

She throws the thief another look, but he could swear he sees a hint of amusement behind it this time.

“It would please me greatly.” She tells him and they head off towards the gardens together, hand in hand. “And you can call me Regina.”

He watches them go, feeling happier than any father watching his son light up in the presence of the purportedly evil queen probably has the right to. He follows them, watching from a distance but not out of concern for Roland’s safety. Despite Little John’s protestations to the contrary he has, for reasons he can find no true explanation for, absolutely no doubt in his mind that his son is safe with her. 

He hides in the shadows behind a pillar in the courtyard, watching his son running around the garden playing some sort of game with the queen, who sits on a bench. He can’t hear what they’re saying, but he can hear laughter and it’s a beautiful sound, her laugh along with his boys. Roland has never been one to take to strangers so easily but he seems almost enchanted by the queens’ attention. Were it not for her reluctance the thought might cross his mind that he in fact was enchanted. 

He’s so enraptured watching them that he’s caught off guard by the princess’s approach.

“I can’t say I’m happy we resorted to emotional blackmail.” She says, taking her place in the shadows with him and watching the scene unfold. “But I can’t argue with the results.”

“My boy is rather taken with her majesty, it seemed like both parties might benefit.” He explains.

“Regina never could disappoint a child.” She says wistfully, lost in memories for a moment. “You know she knows we’re here?”

He’s surprised, his surveillance skills are a tool of his trade.

“She’s probably going to make you suffer for this.” She says, playfully.

“Oh, I fully expect she will.” He replies with a mischievous smile. 

She regards him closely for a moment, pensive. 

“You care about her?” It’s phrased as a question but it seems more of a statement. 

He hesitates. 

“I owe her my boys’ life.” He says by way of excusing his behaviour.

“It’s more than that.” She says with a smile and a shake of her head.

“Perhaps.” He admits with a small smile. “Don’t ask me to explain because I can’t.” 

“If you do anything to hurt her, you will answer to me.” She tells him, and the look in her eye tells him this is no empty threat. 

“I understand, I have no intention of doing anything of the sort.” He’s being honest, truth be told he has no idea what his intentions may be. 

“No. No one ever seems to intend it and yet it always seems to be the result.” She says sadly, then catches herself, realizing she’s already said more than she should. “Well, I just wanted to thank you, I think that’s the first she’s eaten in some time.” 

“No need to thank me your majesty.” He’s earnest.

“Snow, please.” She allows. “And there is a need, most people can’t see passed the ‘evil queen’.”

“Yes, well, sarcastic and cutting perhaps, but certainly not evil.” He jokes.

She doesn’t answer, instead joining him in watching her with the boy for a moment, smiling sadly as she does so and he can’t help but wonder about the parts of their story that aren’t common knowledge. It’s clear there is much more to it than simple jealousies and vengeance. She excuses herself after a short while and not much longer after that he leaves too. 

His son is returned to their chambers later that evening, just before evening meal. She declines his offer to accompany them to the hall for the meal, as he expected she would, and excuses herself back to her chambers. His boy excitedly tells him of his afternoon with Regina and he listens intently but finds himself wondering from time to time about how the woman his son speaks of can possibly be the same one who so many say earned her moniker. 

It’s two days before he can stand Roland’s incessant nagging no longer and allows the boy to go her again, he doesn’t follow this time. Or the next time, or the time after. Within a week it’s a matter of routine that his boy has his lunch with the queen. Little John is still apoplectic at just the thought.

By the second week, Roland’s charms extend to convincing her to attend evening meal with them in the hall. If the boy is at all affected by the sudden silence that falls over the hall at the sight of her walking in hand in hand with him he doesn’t show it, instead pulling her over to the table where he and his father sit with the merry men and sandwiching her between himself and his father. The discomfort and unease around the table are palpable but the excited chatter from Roland sees them through the meal. From the corner of his eye he sees the princess make a move to come and talk to her but the prince holds her back. 

She’s quick to excuse herself after picking through her meal, a pattern that repeats the next few nights until by the third she actually eats about half. The men are begrudgingly accepting her presence, some even engaging in some polite conversation with her now. 

His nightly patrols continue, driven by a need to ensure her safety which he knows is ridiculous. She can, and has, killed with a flick of her wrist, she doesn’t need his help, something she herself would be quick enough to remind him of. 

Something’s different tonight, for the first time, there’s no light spilling out from underneath her door. He smiles, hoping that perhaps this means that at last she’s managed to find some peace to slumber.


	2. Incomprehensible

She is bound and determined that she will be beat that green bitch, she has a singular focus on that goal. She spends every moment pouring over spell books, trying to find a way to strengthen the castle’s defences, a way to make herself stronger so she can defeat her new enemy. 

The passage of time means nothing to her, she is only vaguely aware of the sun rising and falling. She’s heard Snow at her door more than once, her husband has tried the handle too though he resorted to banging his fist against the door when he found it still locked. She cannot have these distractions. She can’t lose focus. She hates being back here and even more she hates being without him. If she’s focused on destroying her long lost sister she doesn’t have to think about him being happy somewhere without her.

Lose focus she does however when the door is unceremoniously kicked open and Snow bursts through, dismissing with a nod her husband, who had been the one to kick the door open. 

“What is the meaning of this?” She demands, summoning as much of her old persona as she can. 

“Don’t.” Snow says, but it’s a plea, a plea not to start back down that path. 

“What do you want?” She asks, it’s softer this time though, it’s Regina asking. 

“Regina, you need to leave this room.” Snow says as though it’s the most obvious thing in the world, looking her up and down as she does so, the scrutiny makes her uncomfortable.

“I can’t, I’m not finished yet, I have to find a way to defeat that witch.” She replies, turning to go back to her research.

“It’s been a week.” Snow tells her, and it stops her in her tracks. A week? That can’t possibly be right. “Have you even eaten anything?” Snow asks, taking in with some relief that there’s at least a glass of water on the table. “Have you slept?” 

“I’m not hungry.” She snaps. “And I’ll sleep when I’m dead, which we’ll all be if I don’t find a way to defeat her.” 

A resigned sigh comes from Snow. 

“Now, leave me to my work please.” She adds dismissively, Snow’s presence makes her think of him.

“I’ve called a council meeting tomorrow to discuss our strategy, I think it would be reassuring to people if you came.” Snow tries an appeal to her as a fellow leader. 

She fixes Snow with a steely glare, a lesser woman or at least one less accustomed to such looks might have winced, but Snow stands fast. 

“Fine.” She concedes, though she cannot see the point in such an exercise, the strategy is clear, she will fight the witch. 

She attends the meeting the next day though as she expected it was a pointless waste of her time. The council such as it is, decided in its infinite wisdom to increase patrols around the perimeter of the shield. She’s not sure what she was expecting though, being made up of the uncharmings, the old wolf, her cub, a few of Snow’s vertically challenged devotees and the thief. Idiots all of them, especially the thief. It seemed as though he was deliberately trying to rile her, he’s just lucky she’s not the woman she once was. She could swear he spent that entire meeting surreptitiously watching her, especially when Snow had insisted that lunch be served to them all while they met. Snow’s intentions are transparent when all eyes on the room seem to focus on her as she picks at her meal. What part of not being hungry is it that they find so hard to comprehend? The thief continues to argue with her as they eat, and despite throwing some of her best insults his way she’s sure now that he’s enjoying it. It’s her fault she supposes, she allowed him to see her at her weakest and live, of course he’ll judge her by that, assume that she is weak and powerless. She holds his eye during one particularly heated conversation about the patrols and despite herself, she can’t help but think that Snow was right, he is handsome. She crushes that thought down immediately, she will deny ever thinking it to her dying breath and if he calls her ‘milady’ one more time she really cannot be held responsible for her actions. She storms out from the meeting the very second it is finally declared over.

She ignores Snow’s summons to another council meeting two days later, and the one that comes two days after that. She’s back to pouring over every magical text she can lay her hands on, the passage of time means nothing once again. Unbeknownst to her, another two days pass before her solitude is rudely interrupted once more. She looks up expecting to find Snow once more but finds instead her husband. She fixes him the same hard glare she’d used on his wife, but he too is unwavering. It’s less of a conversation with him and more a ten minute lecture about how worried Snow is and how selfish she is being. Doesn’t she know they lost Emma and Henry too? Rounded off with what she supposed was meant to be an inspiring speech about how only by working together they could defeat the wicked witch. The temptation to use her magic to remove either herself or him from the room is almost too much, but she made a promise to be better, so she doesn’t. She agrees to attend their ridiculous council meetings, but vows that any further interruptions to her studies of these texts will not be dealt with kindly.

Snow tries to talk to her again after the meeting and she simply cannot abide the younger woman trying to comfort her. Being in her presence makes her think of him, and thinking of him makes her feel like there’s a gaping chasm in her chest, makes her want to claw at these ridiculous outfits that were waiting in her closet for her so she can rip them off and breathe again. But she will not show such weakness. Especially not in front of that thief, not again. So every day she dons one of these elaborate over-the-top outfits and she hides behind it like she used to. 

She’s weary now, loathe as she is to admit it. She’s being constantly reminded how much time has passed at these insufferable council meetings. Three weeks now they tell her. Three weeks she’s been without her precious boy. 

She learned the first night back here not to sleep, she was plagued by nightmares that night, old memories mixed with new, twisting into horrific scenarios in all of which she failed to protect Henry. She avoids sleeping as much as she can, she works into the wee small hours and on the occasions where she’s been unable to fight it off any longer and slumped over whatever book she’s been studying she’s been wakened by whatever horror awaits her in her mind that night. Once or twice she’s gone out into the gardens in the dead of night, she used to find solace there before but it seems to elude her now.

Another day, another intolerable council meeting, she can almost script them now. Snow welcomes them all, thanks them earnestly for attending. They all look to her to see if she’s made any progress in defeating the witch, then they all look back to Snow and Charming when she says no. All except the thief whose fascination with her seems to know no bounds. His attention infuriates her until finally she can take no more, between his studying her, Snow concerned glances and the utterly ludicrous suggestions being banded about by the idiots she simply cannot sit here any longer. 

“Enough!” She explodes, slamming her fist into the table and standing abruptly. It comes over her like a wave then, the dizziness, and she remembers reaching up to touch her head as if she could clear it and then her vision clouded. She was aware she falling before the darkness took her, and the last thing she saw was a look of concern in the eyes of that damned thief. 

She wakes to find herself laying out on the ground, Granny is kneeling and cradling her head in her lap, Snow is hovering over her touching her and trying to reassure her and it’s all too much. She can’t. She pushes passed Snow and free of Granny’s hands on her shoulders, manages to stand on sheer force of will alone and waves her hand and sends herself back to her chambers.

She collapses into a chair the minute she gets there and she’s so tired now that she can’t fight it any longer. She has to sleep and part of her wishes she won’t wake up, but when has she ever been so lucky?

She wakes with a start when there’s a knock on the door.

“Go away.” She commands. 

There’s another knock and she chooses to ignore it presuming whoever it is, most likely Snow or her idiot husband, will get the message and leave. A third knock and her patience is gone, she stalks towards the door, anger boiling up inside her.

“Are you deaf? I said go away!” She pulls the door back in as menacing a manner as she can manage, the words out before she’s even bothered to see who it is she’s addressing. 

It takes a moment for her mind to process the sight before her, the thief and his boy stand in the hall, the boy clutching a bunch of flowers that he has clearly just picked from the gardens and the thief carrying a tray of food. She sees the boys’ chin wobbling slightly and he looks up towards the thief, waiting for a nod before he speaks to her. 

“Papa said you weren’t feeling well your majesty so I picked you some flowers and we brought you lunch.” He speaks quietly, quickly shoving the hand with the flowers out to her. He looks to the ground and she knows that she’s scared him with her anger when she opened the door. She has to fix this, scaring small children is not something she was ever particularly fond of. 

“Well that’s very sweet of you Roland.” She kneels so she’s eye to eye with him, not towering above him and smiles as she speaks, reaching out to take the flowers and quickly giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as she does so. “Thank you very much for the flowers, but I’m afraid I’m not hungry.” She explains. 

“Oh.” That he manages to convey such crushing disappointment with just one word is astonishing to her, even more than that, it’s piqued her interest. She watches as his gaze falls to the ground and begins to fidget and pull at a loose thread on his tunic, she realizes he was expecting something else from her and she wants to know what that was.

“Roland?” She asks, and it’s a tone she perfected with Henry, tell me more. She glances at the thief who just stands silently watching events unfold and what she sees confuses her, he seems to look at her with genuine concern in her eyes.

“It’s just, papa said that I might get to eat my lunch with you.” Roland speaks, drawing her attention back to him and it dawns on her exactly what is happening here.

“Did he?” She looks to the thief with as much contempt as she can muster. She just wants to be left alone, why can they not just leave her alone?

“He said you might be too busy but that sometimes you reward your most loyalest subjects by sharing a meal with them and I’ve been helping to guard the castle.” He’s puffed out his little chest by the end of the sentence, so proud of himself for helping. He reminds her so much of Henry at that age it almost breaks her heart in two right there and then it’s such a keen reminder that she’s apart from him, but this is not Henry she reminds herself, and while she is very clearly being manipulated here she is also very cleverly being manipulated. 

“I’m sure that you’ve been a tremendous help.” She smiles at him and his little face lights up. “And I suppose your father will be joining us for this meal?” She addresses that question to the thief, studying him as she does so, why is he doing this? What does he hope to gain, she wonders.

“Actually your majesty, I have to go on patrol, you’d be doing me a favour if you were watching over Roland while I’m gone.” She momentarily stunned, he’s entrusting his child to the evil queen? She’s hardly renowned in this realm for her babysitting skills. But then she sees it, a flash of kindness through the concern in his eyes and it throws her off, why would he care? Why would anyone care? 

“Really?” She says it in such a way as to let him know that she if fully aware he is lying. She looks down to the boy who is excitedly hopping from foot to foot. “I see, well I can’t possibly disappoint my loyal guard here can I?” She makes sure the accusation is clear, she knows precisely what he’s done, but says it with a smile for the boy who doesn’t realize there’s another layer to the words.

“You mean it?” Roland is grinning from ear to ear.

“Of course dear.” She smiles at him again as she moves to stand, running a hand through his hair in a way that became second nature with Henry. 

She’s momentarily dizzy again when she stands, but she’s not sure if it’s from the tiredness or the crushing wave of grief she feels at allowing herself to think of Henry. She reaches out and takes the tray from the thief with both hands at first but then rests one edge on her hip she can hold it with one arm, freeing her other hand to take Roland’s. 

“Shall we eat in the gardens?” She suggests, hoping that the peace she used to be able to find there might offset the pain of thinking of her son.

“Yes please!” Roland nods excitedly before he seems to catch himself. “I mean, if it would please your majesty.” He smiles proudly at the thief who has obviously made an attempt to teach his son how to behave around royalty, ironic she thinks, that the lesson be taught by a man who seems determined to address her by the wrong title constantly.

Perhaps there’s hope for him yet she thinks as she looks at him.

“It would please me greatly.” She informs him sincerely, starting off towards the gardens still holding his hand. “And you can call me Regina.” She says, making sure they are still in earshot of the thief, she’ll spend the afternoon making sure that Roland unlearns everything his father has taught him about royalty. 

She might not have been very enthused by the idea but as she watches the boy looking up at her she realizes, he is probably one of the few people in this realm with no preconceived notions about her. She can just be Regina. While the constant reminder of Henry is painful, being able to just be herself feels like she’s coming up for air and she’s been underwater for so long now. Roland doesn’t care that she used to be called the evil queen, he doesn’t look at her with suspicion and her question her motives and he doesn’t seem to expect anything of her. He’s happy enough just to spend with her in the gardens. Just like Henry used to be. 

She realizes that that’s the first time since she lost him that she’s thought of him and not felt as though she was being stabbed through the heart. 

She knows the thief has followed them, not that she can blame him of course, he would have to be truly insane to leave his child with her unsupervised. Despite herself, she feels her anger towards dissipating the more time she spends with Roland. 

He’s a curious little thing, running around and exploring the gardens, she’s careful to make sure he doesn’t stray too far though. He’s also funny, telling her stories she’s sure his father would rather she didn’t hear and she finds herself laughing, it sounds almost foreign to her own ears. 

Her focus is on the boy but she knows that Snow has joined the thief to watch them, she might have known she’d had a hand in this. She’s annoyed beyond words that this ridiculous plan of theirs has worked but she can’t help but want to do anything to avoid disappointing this precious boy who looks at her so adoringly, the way Henry once did. 

She realizes suddenly that they’re not being watched anymore, the thief has gone. He’s left her alone with his boy and she cannot fathom how it could be that he could possibly trust her and yet, it would seem he does. 

She takes the boy back to his father, he’s tired after expending so much energy running around but to her surprise she realizes she doesn’t feel quite as shaky on her feet and then it occurs to her that she’d ate the damn sandwich he’d brought for her. 

She offers the thief a tight smile as she returns the boy and it’s as close as he’ll get to a thank you for today, the fact that he was right is irrelevant, she does not appreciate being manipulated. He returns the smile and invites her to share the evening meal with them and she finds once again that she is momentarily stunned by the genuine care and concern she sees in his eyes. No one looks at her like that, not here anyway, not since…

She shakes her head, breaking her reverie and politely declines the offer, retreating to her chambers as quickly as she can. 

She allows Snow to enter the next day when she visits, somehow it’s not as painful to be reminded of Henry, it still hurts of course, she can’t imagine that it ever won’t, but her afternoon with Roland has reminded her of all the good memories she has of him. He may not be able to remember her, but she’ll be damned if she’s going to forget him. She’s accepting that Snow was right, Henry would want her to find a way to go to on. 

She’s shocked the next day when she answers a timid knock on her door to find Roland there alone. He assures her his father knows where he is and he asks if he can have his lunch with her again because he’d enjoyed their last lunch very much. She smiles and takes his hand again and takes him to get something to eat, the books can wait, she’s read every one in this castles library cover to cover by now and she’s no further forward.

She finds herself looking forward to spending her afternoons with Roland more and more. The more time she spends with him and gets to know him, the less difficult it is, of course he still says and does the odd thing that reminds her of her son, but more and more she’s seeing the differences than the similarities. He asks her one afternoon, in the innocent way children do, why she was so sad all the time. She explained it to him as best she could to a child his age, that she and her son had been separated and he lived in a different land now and that she wouldn’t be able to see him again. She wasn’t aware that a tear silently rolled down her face until the little boy was stood in front of her wiping it away and then hugging her, telling her his papa always hugs him when he’s feeling sad and it makes him feel better. He asks a lot of questions about Henry after that and she answers them honestly and it gets easier and easier for her to talk about him without feeling crushed by her grief. 

Her conversations with the thief also grow longer when she takes the boy back to him, and she finds the more time she spends around him the more intriguing she finds him. She can’t understand what it is, but she now finds herself looking forward to the brief daily interaction she has with him. Perhaps it’s just simply that he’s one of the few people in the castle to smile when he sees her approach but she can’t help but feel there’s more to it than that though try as she might she’s unable to understand what it is.

Every evening when she’s returned the boy, the thief has asked her to join them for their evening meal and every night she’s declined. Tonight, for the first time, Roland’s asked before his father, looking up at her with a grin, full of expectation. She doesn’t have it in her to disappoint the boy.

She hasn’t ventured into the banquet hall since their return and the deafening silence that falls over it when she enters holding Roland’s hand reminds her why. To his credit, the boy doesn’t react, but he does give her hand and tiny reassuring squeeze and then pulls her over by it to a table full of Robin’s men. He instructs both her and his father where to sit, placing her between them. 

The atmosphere around the table is palpable and it’s unmistakable that she’s clearly not welcome here, but Roland persists with his happy chatter and somehow gets them all through but she makes a swift exit as soon as she can. As far as meals that she’s had in this hall go, it’s not even top 10 in her list of the worst. 

Roland insists she comes again the next night and by the third night she’s even treated to some polite, if somewhat stilted, conversation from Friar Tuck and a few of the other men.

The gnawing pain in her chest is still there, and she knows that it always will be as long as she’s separated from her son but despite her best efforts, Snow and that annoyingly earnest husband of hers seem determined that they’ll be some sort of a family and Roland has snuck his way into her affections along with his father. She still detests being back in this realm, even more being back in this castle but somehow she feels more at peace tonight than she has since she got here. She resolves herself to try and get at least a few hours sleep, maybe her subconscious will share this newfound sense of peace and not torment her tonight.


	3. Infuriating

Infuriating. Beyond words, he finds this woman infuriating. That she finally accepted his offer to accompany her feels like some sort of progress, though he was going with her whether she liked it or not.

She was determined to make this journey, that much was clear. Spurred into action by an attack on those who were foolish enough to stray beyond her shield, and no amount of arguing in the council chamber was able to dissuade her. In her apparently infinite wisdom, she had decided that a perilous journey across the land was the appropriate response to the death of one of her subjects. 

That’s how he’s come to find himself back in the forest, setting up camp for the night with the formerly evil queen who’s been disturbingly quiet so far on their journey. No cutting remarks, no acerbic criticisms. It’s concerning, not least because their bantering has fast become one of the highlights of his days. 

They sit by the fire, she’s picked at the game he caught and cooked, their silence is not uncomfortable but there is a slight awkwardness. He steals glances at her whenever he thinks she’s not looking. She’s pensive, lost in whatever it is that’s running through her mind. He wants to ask but he’s learned in their conversations that she’ll only ever reveal what she wants, when she wants. He’s not sure if that’s a part of this pull he feels towards her, the mystery that surrounds her. Like she’s a puzzle he has to the find the answer to. He wants to know everything about her, especially what made her like this, so closed off and afraid to trust anyone. He wants to fix it for her.

He tells her he’ll take first watch and she merely nods before retiring to the tent he’d erected when they’d made camp earlier. That she did so without the merest hint of an argument is another sign that she is distracted by something. Rarely does she ever agree to anything without an argument. 

It’s been two weeks since Roland convinced her to join them at evening meals. His boy is seeking more and more of the queen’s affections, he’d asked her to tell him a story before bed two nights ago. He could see the struggle on her face, the pain caused by the memories such a request obviously elicited, but she agreed and she tucked him in to his bed and told him a story for the last two nights. He wonders if perhaps that wasn’t a part of the reason she was so determined to leave the castle. 

He stares into the fire, pondering the strange feelings he has about this woman. He’s on high alert, listening for any sounds, any indications of the witch’s minions nearby. Despite the protection spell she’s cast, they’re vulnerable out in the open like this. 

He’s on his feet in an instant the second he hears a low murmur from the tent, he sits back down however when he realizes she’s talking in her sleep. He tries his best not to listen, it feels like a violation of sorts and he knows she wouldn’t be happy about it. There aren’t a lot of words, but he hears her son’s name, and the noises she’s making suggest that it’s not a pleasant dream she’s having. The noise abruptly stops and he knows she’s awake.

There’s a brief rustling in the tent, and then she emerges, impeccably dressed as always, not a hair out of place in her elaborate hair style. 

The look she throws his way when he asks if she’s alright is indication enough they will continue to not talk about whatever it is that’s eating away at her. 

He sighs, infuriating, frustrating woman. 

She tells him she’ll take over watch, essentially dismissing him to the tent. She wants to be alone and at least one of them might as well get some rest he reasons, so he acquiesces without argument.

He’s awake at dawn and he finds her sitting by the fire, staring into the flames. She’s changed from the over the top outfit she was wearing into a much more simple riding outfit. Light brown pants and a blue riding jacket, with proper riding boots instead of the high heeled ones she was wearing yesterday. Her hair is simply pulled back in a long braid. She looks younger like this and he can’t help but think she’ll be infinitely more comfortable too. 

He deliberately makes noise as he moves towards her trying not to startle her but she still visibly flinches when a twig snaps beneath his foot. It hasn’t escaped his notice how she often flinches so violently when startled, it’s another piece to her puzzle.

“If we leave soon we could be there before nightfall.” He says. He knows that she’s aware of this, but he feels the need to break the silence. 

“Let’s get going then.” She says, standing and using her magic to put out the fire. 

Robin quickly packs up the tent and loads the horses and they’re soon riding through the forest once again. They’re avoiding the roads, trying to use the trees as cover against the wicked witch’s flying monkeys. 

They’re a few hours into their ride when the forest starts to thin out. Robin isn’t familiar with the area, but it’s clear that the queen is. 

“We’re coming up to the meadows, it’s miles between areas of cover here.” She tells him. 

“Can’t you use your magic to take us there now we’re closer?” He asks.

“Distance was never the issue.” She says as though he were an idiot. “Without knowing what’s waiting there, it’s too dangerous.” She looks at him oddly as she says it.

“I’d wager that riding for miles out in the open isn’t a much better option.” He replies.

“Well then I suggest we do it quickly.” She says and suddenly takes off galloping on her horse at break-neck speed. 

He watches her for a second, smiling without realizing, she never fails to surprise him, and then takes off after her. 

He’s an able horseman but he finds himself struggling to keep up with her as she rides ahead looking perfectly at her home, graceful even, on her horse. 

He can’t see her face of course but he’s almost certain she’s enjoying herself, probably for the first time in long while so he’s content not to try and pull level with her, to sit back a little behind her and allow her to enjoy the moment. He doesn’t know much of this new land they were in but from the little he has been told, he doubts very much that she’s had the opportunity to ride like this in a very long time. 

He regrets allowing her to get so far ahead quickly however when he hears the first screech of one of the witch’s winged beasts. It seems to come out of nowhere and quickly descends upon her, closely followed by another. 

They fly over him and head straight for her. He sees her turning to gauge their position and then she’s urging her horse to go faster. There’s a patch of forest on the horizon, it should provide them some cover if they can get there. 

He’s got his horse going flat out now, too fast for him to let go of the reigns and draw his bow. He watches as the first beast swoops down and she leans forward, enough to get out of the way but there’s little she can do to escape the second one and it manages to knock her from her mount. He winces as she hits the ground hard. She’s lying still on the ground as the beast lands a few feet away from her and stalks toward her. He slows his horse as he gets near enough to take a shot and jumps off, readying his bow and pulling an arrow from his quiver all in one quick motion as he does so. Before he can fire though, he sees that she’s turned onto her back, just in time for creature to take another step forward, this time onto her, digging its claws into her right thigh as it draws its wings up, claws at the ready, to swing for her torso. He takes his shot, hitting it square in the back. And then another and another. The fourth gets it in the head and it drops immediately. He runs toward her then, aware that the other beast is circling for an attack. 

She’s trying to push the beast off her with one arm, he quickly rolls it off of her.

“Are you alright?” He asks though he can see immediately that her left arm is broken and there’s a large gash in her leg where its claw was. 

“Never better.” She replies through gritted teeth, trying as always to downplay any weakness.

He knows it’s probably not the best idea to move her but there seems to be little choice in the matter. 

He leans down, intending to lift her from the ground but before he can he’s unceremoniously pushed to the side and she’s throwing a ball of fire at the second monkey. He’d been so concerned with her he hadn’t heard its approach. 

The creature is taken by surprise too it seems because she hits her target square on the chest and it falls to the ground only feet away from them. He’s back on his feet in an instant and finishes the beast with his knife. 

He looks over to her once he’s sure the creature is dead, she’s struggling to try and get to her feet. 

“Milady! Stay where you are!” He shouts as he rushes towards her, his voice giving away the frustration and annoyance he felt at her stubborn refusal to accept anyone’s help. 

“How dare you speak to me like that!” She snaps. 

“You’re injured and don’t even try to tell me you’re fine this time, your arm is quite clearly broken and your leg needs dressing unless you want to bleed to death.” He scolds. 

She glares at him but doesn’t say anything, lying back down on the grass as he attempts to tend to her injuries. 

He looks up and around, the horses are, unsurprisingly, nowhere to be seen. 

“All the supplies were on the horses. Can you use your magic to heal yourself?” He asks, though he suspects he already knows the answer.

He feels contempt radiating from her as she waves a hand over herself and the injuries disappear. 

His focus then turns to the treeline, it’s at least a mile until its relative safety. 

“We need to get moving.” He says, offering her a hand to get up off the ground. 

She looks at his outstretched hand with contempt and pushes herself from the ground, it doesn’t go unnoticed by him that she only uses her right arm but he supposes that even magical healing must leave some residual pain, at least that’s how he explains to himself the fact she’s limping as they walk quickly towards the treeline, despite her best efforts to hide it. 

He has to slow his pace several times to prevent her from falling behind but he knows better than to say anything. He does value his life after all. 

Eventually they make it to the forest and Robin quietly breathes a sigh of relief, at least they have some cover here.

He turns quickly when he hears her stumble, reaching out with quick reflexes to right her, he grabs her left arm but she cries out in pain at his touch.

“Milady?” He asks, unsure how he had managed to elicit such a reaction, his grip was enough to right her but surely not enough to cause that amount of pain.

“I’m fine.” Comes her almost automatic response.

He turns his focus towards her then and suddenly understands that he’s been deceived. She’s pale, covered in a sheen of sweat and her hands are beginning to shake. 

“I don’t know much of magic but I’ve seen healing spells before and this is not what they look like.” He states confidently. “You’re wounds aren’t healed at all are they?” He asks softly, trying for it not to come across as an accusation.

She stands still for a moment and he can see the internal war flickers across her face. She finally relents and removes the glamour spell she's used to hide her injuries. 

“I’ve never been very good at using healing magic on myself.” She admits quietly. “I heal quickly though, I’ll be fine.” She tells him, trying to sound confident as she leans against a tree trunk and slides down it to the ground. 

“Milady please.” He says in a gentle tone, the right leg of her pants are stained with blood beneath the site of her injury, her stubborn insistence on hiding the injury and walking has cost her a lot of blood. “Allow me to help.” 

She huffs but closes her eyes and leans back against the tree.

He takes off his cloak and tears strips off it to use as bandages for her leg and then makes a sling out of the remainder of it. He works quickly, very much aware of their exposed position.

“There.” He says once he’s satisfied the makeshift bandage will hold. “Let’s get you up and get this arm in a sling.” 

She reluctantly accepts his help to stand and then allows him to position her arm into the makeshift sling. He can tell she’s working hard to hide how much pain she’s in. 

Before she can protest he’s pulled her good arm around his shoulder and has his hand around her waist to support her as she walks. She says nothing but he can practically feel the resentment radiating off her. Damn stubborn, infuriating woman. 

“We could turn back.” He says as they make slow progress through the wooded area. 

“You can go if you like.” She says through gritted teeth as she struggles on. “I told you I don’t need a babysitter.” She sounds like a petulant child now. 

He stops walking, essentially forcing her to do the same. 

“This seems like as good a place as any to set up camp for the night.” He declares. 

“In case you forgot, all our supplies rode off on the horses.” She says with disdain, looking at him as if he were an idiot. 

“Oh I’m well aware of that milady.” He answers with a smirk. “But you’re not going to get much further on that leg and you need to rest.” 

“I’m fine.” She argues.

“Ok, you’re fine.” He says, holding his hands up in mock surrender. “I need to rest then.” He says, smirking again. “And I’m quite peckish.” 

She scoffs and rolls her eyes, sitting down carefully on the log of a fallen tree. 

“I’ll just go and catch us some dinner then.” Robin says, stalking off through the woods with his bow drawn. 

 

 

He returns a short while later with two rabbits to find a fire burning. Regina is sat on the ground now, he back resting against the log, with her eyes closed. 

He purposely makes a lot of noise as he approaches her but she still nearly jumps out of her skin when she wakens, he watches her with interest. What is it that has made this woman so easy to startle? He's seen similar reaction in men who've been in battle for too long.

“I’m glad to see you took my advice about getting so rest.” He says with a cocky smile on his face. He has no idea why but he does enjoy winding her up. 

“I wasn’t sleeping.” She says with the same tone of disdain she seems to have reserved especially for him.

“No, of course you weren’t.” He smiles. “I caught dinner.” He says holding up the rabbits. 

“Am I supposed to be impressed?” She asks. 

“Not particularly.” He says, still smiling because he can tell that it’s infuriating her. 

He sets to work butchering the rabbits and cooking them. It’s hardly the best meal he’s ever prepared but considering he’s done it without any of the cooking equipment he’d packed it’s not bad. He’s basically skewered them on a stick and spit-roasted them over the flame. He’s quite sure it won’t be up to her majesty’s standards but truth be told he’ll just be happy to see her eat something. They eat in silence, him sitting across the fire from her, watching her through the flames.

“Here.” He says, tossing his waterskin at her and landing it just next to her once he’s sure she’s finished picking at the rabbit meat. “You need to drink.” 

She glares at him for a second, and he can tell she’s outraged that he would dare to throw anything at her but she relents and takes a gulp of the water before tossing it back to him. 

He stands then and moves towards her, handing the waterskin back to her. 

“I had plenty earlier.” He says. 

She frowns, looking at him strangely. 

“There’s a stream not far from here.” He says, pointing to the direction he’d come from earlier.

“No, there isn’t.” She says and he can tell she almost smiled as she said it. 

“And how would you know that?” He asks. 

“Because I grew up here.” She tells him, there’s a haunted look in her eyes as she says it and he feels it again, this inexplicable draw to her. 

“The home of a powerful witch.” He repeats the words she’d used to justify the journey. “Your home.” He reasons as he sits down next to her, resting his back against the same log she is but far enough away from her so they aren’t touching.

She scoffs.

“It was never my home.” She admits sadly. “I just lived there.” She seems to catch herself after saying that, her tone changes, hardens. “And I wasn’t talking about myself, my mother was a formidable sorceress and apparently had more than a few secrets, there may well be something useful left.” 

They sit in silence after that, she drinks the rest of the water but then uses her magic and hands the waterskin back to him full. 

He takes a sip from it and decides to brave asking the question that’s on his mind.

“So are you going to tell me why we’re really out here?” He asks casually.

“Excuse me?” There’s outrage in her voice, she looking at him with wide eyes.

“You heard me.”

“I just told you why we’re here, there might be something to help in the fight against the wicked witch in that house.” She’s back to talking to him as though he were a simpleton. 

“If your mother was as powerful as you say I don’t believe for a minute that you haven’t already torn through that house for whatever she might have left behind during your previous reign.” He’s seen how much it bothers her to be referred to as ‘The Evil Queen’ so he won’t use those words but his inference is clear. “I’m asking you why we’re actually out here.” He’s turned to face her now but she keeps looking forward, staring into the fire.

She works her jaw, he’s noticed she does that when she’s trying to control her emotions but what he’s not sure of is whether she’s trying to hold back tears or stop herself from charring him to a crisp. Probably both.

“Is it Roland?” He asks in a far more gentle tone than he’d been using previously.

“What?” She asks, turning her head to look at him and he can’t be sure but he thinks she’s genuinely surprised.

“He reminds you of your son.” It’s a statement not a question.

“Yes. No. Is that what you think? That I’m using him as some sort of replacement?” She accuses.

“No! That is not what I said and I’ll thank you not to put words in my mouth.” He tells her sternly. “I merely wondered if perhaps spending so much time with him was upsetting for you, because he reminds you of Henry.”

“No! Not at all.” She tells him firmly, her voice getting louder.

“Well then why in god’s name are we out here in the middle of nowhere?” He asks, frustration causing his voice to grow louder too.

“Because I was suffocating in that castle!” She blurts out the truth in anger and he can see she immediately regrets it.

She looks away from him, back towards the fire.

“Snow White.” He guesses.

“You mean my shadow?” She snaps. “Every time I turn around, there she is!” There’s no venom in her voice, it sounds more like exasperation. “It’s exhausting.” 

He doesn’t say anything, just patiently waits for her continue.

“It’s funny that you would think Roland is the reason, I think he might be the only thing keeping me sane.” She admits and he can feel her affection for his boy radiating off her. “He’s the only one doesn’t look at me with fear or suspicion, he’s the only one who’s never looked at me like that, who doesn’t flinch if I move my hand too quickly.” She pauses, he can tell talking has quelled her anger. “I’m well aware that I’ve earned that hatred and suspicion, I am under no illusions and spending time with someone who doesn’t remind me of it? I’m sure it’s far more than I deserve. He’s a sweet boy, pure, you’re right to want to keep him away from me, I’m poison.”

“I don’t believe that.” He tells her sincerely.

“Then you’re even more of a fool than I thought.” She says, she’s using the queen’s voice now, hiding Regina, she’s building the walls back up right in front of him.

“Don’t do that, don’t try and push me away Regina.” He says tenderly.

“Do not presume to use my name thief!” She snaps. “You don’t know me.”

“That’s the problem though isn’t it? I do know you, I see through all your bluster and costumes and see the real you and you can’t stand that.” He’s frustrated again.

“You saw one moment of weakness.” She says with disgust.

He frowns for a second, trying to figure out what she was referring to.

“I’m not talking about the sleeping curse!” His frustration grows. “I see you with Roland, that’s the real you, kind and gentle and loving, the one you’ve been hiding all these years behind the evil queen.”

“This was a mistake.” She says with a shake of her head and then with a wave of her hand he finds himself sitting in the palace courtyard.

“Bloody maddening woman!” He mutters as he stands and starts storming towards the stables.


End file.
